


lay us down (we're in love)

by bilexualclarke (ohalaskayoung)



Series: tumblr prompts [5]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, I totally didn't tear up while writing this, and the Blake siblings finally reunite, clarke is pregnant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-15 06:54:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7212376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohalaskayoung/pseuds/bilexualclarke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“He’s going to be a great dad, you know,” Clarke murmurs, and his breath catches. “Really incredible.”</p><p>“Yeah, he will be,” Octavia agrees.</p><p>prompt: a scene where self loathing/scared Bellamy overhears pregnant!Clarke telling someone how lucky this baby is to have him as a dad and how incredible he's going to be</p><p>*Winner: Best Future Drabble- Bellarke Fanfiction Awards 2016*</p>
            </blockquote>





	lay us down (we're in love)

When Octavia returns to Arkadia, the last thing she expects to see if Clarke Griffin sporting a rounded stomach. After helping shut down the rest of the nuclear reactors, she and Indra had taken off, traveling to various clans. Over the last year and a half, she had returned to Arkadia three times, each visit lasting barely a day. Just enough time to check in, let her brother know that she’s still alive, and that she is getting better.

 

Now she’s back. It might not be for good, but she’s done with her travels for now.

 

“Octavia!”

 

Clarke spots her immediately and starts to waddle over. Her belly isn’t _that_ big yet, but she’s already walking with one hand pressed to her lower back.

 

“Hi, Clarke,” Octavia says, managing a small smile. Her eyes are glued to the bump, and she marvels in the strangeness of it against her own flat stomach when Clarke pulls her in for a hug. Her mind wanders to thoughts of herself with her own swollen stomach, with big, warm hands caressing it at night, and- _no_. _She won’t allow herself to get upset over this now._

“Bellamy’s out hunting for the day. I’ll have him radioed back immediately. How long do you have before you have to leave?” Clarke rambles, already digging her radio from her back pocket. Octavia grabs her wrist.

 

“Relax, Clarke, it’s fine. I’m staying. For now, at least.”

 

At this, Clarke’s eyes water, and she throws her arms around the girl again.

 

* * *

 

Bellamy’s radio crackles when they’re about two hours outside of camp.

 

“Bellamy?” Clarke’s voice comes through and a surge of warmth bubbles up in his chest. She doesn’t sound like she’s scared or in pain, but he can’t help but worry.

 

“Clarke, is everything alright? How’s…?” The baby. _Their_ baby.

 

They hadn’t been trying. Hell, they had barely been having sex for two months when Clarke told him, pale and shaken, that her implant had expired and she was already pregnant. He loves her, of course. He’s known that much to be true for a while. He told her as much the night she told him about the baby, nearly six months ago. She hasn’t said it back yet, but it doesn’t bother him. He knows that she does and he doesn’t want to push her to say words she’s not ready for.

 

And he loves their baby. _God_ , does he love their baby. He’s been thinking about being a father, having a _child_ , nonstop since Clarke broke the news. He’s out of his mind with excitement, but he’s also fucking petrified.

“I’m fine,” Clarke tells him, and he can practically hear her rolling her eyes. “we’re both fine, Bell. But there’s someone here who I think you might want to see.”

 

He figures that it’s Octavia without her having to tell him so, and they wrap up the hunt early. His stomach is in knots the whole way back, his mind spinning with possibilities. When they enter the camp, his eyes immediately scan for his sister, but she and Clarke are nowhere to be found.

 

“They’re in the med bay,” Monty offers, appearing at Bellamy’s shoulder. “She had a few bumps and bruises that Clarke insisted on tending to.”

 

Bellamy grunts, because of course Clarke wanted to patch Octavia up. Even if the pair weren’t on semi-civil terms, she still would have insisted on giving the warrior a once-over. Her motherly instincts had only doubled since she found out she was actually going to be a mother herself.

 

Bellamy nearly trips as the thought slams into him again. Clarke is going to be a mother. _He is going to be a father._

 

The thought normally sends a jolt of excitement and elation through him, but of late it has also been accompanied by a pang of guilt, the uneasy feeling of nausea.

_You’re a monster,_ he tells himself whenever he catches himself feeling too giddy. _You’re a murderer. You’ve caused the extinction of a civilization. You have the blood of thousands on your hands it will never wash off._

 

These thoughts make bile rise in his throat.

_You don’t deserve to be a father._

The sound of laughter drags him out of his thoughts. It’s Octavia- he’d know her laugh anywhere, though he hasn’t heard it in years. It’s sharp and biting, almost like a bark, but slightly warmer around the edges. He blinks, coming back to himself, and sees that he’s standing just outside the doors of the med bay.

 

“He broke the _chair_?” he hears Octavia ask. Clarke must answer in the affirmative because she snorts. “I’m not surprised.”

 

She must be referring to the chair that he broke when Clarke told him she was pregnant. He collapsed into the weak wooden seat so hard that it fell apart beneath him, sending him tumbling to the floor.

 

“He’s going to be a great dad, you know,” Clarke murmurs, and his breath catches. “Really incredible.”

 

“Yeah, he will be,” Octavia agrees.

 

“I’m just so _happy_ it’s him. Not like there’s anyone else or anything; Bellamy is it for me. But for the baby’s sake. They’re so lucky to have him as a dad.”

 

Bellamy blinks rapidly, trying to clear the tears from his eyes. There’s a pause, and he can hear the hesitation in Clarke’s voice.

 

“And to have you as an aunt.”

 

There’s silence for a beat before Octavia chokes out a laugh again. “So how long do I have to wait to meet this kid?”

 

* * *

 

Bellamy gets home just after nightfall. He kicks off his boots and collapses into bed next to Clarke, who immediately threads her fingers through his hair.

 

“How’d it go?” she asks. Him and Octavia had gone for a two-hour walk after dinner, airing all their grievances.

 

“It was tough,” he sighs, cuddling up next to her and sliding his hand up to cup her stomach. “But necessary. We’re going to be okay.”

 

“Good, I’m glad.” She presses a kiss to his forehead. “Now, someone’s been waiting for you.”

 

Bellamy can’t contain the grin that stretches across his face. He shimmies down the bed so that his face is next to Clarke stomach and pushes the thin material of her shirt up.

 

“Hi there, little bean,” he coos, kissing the skin above her belly button. “How was your day?”

 

He waits a moment, his cheek pressed to her skin, until he feels a strong little kick.

 

“Ooh, that was a good one!” Clarke hisses, and he presses a hard kiss to the spot. “He’s getting so strong.”

 

“ _She’s_ going to be just like her mama,” he says, smirking. Clarke rolls her eyes.

 

“Whoever they are, I hope they’re like you.” He opens his mouth to protest but she shushes him. “Seriously, Bell. I know what you’ve been thinking, and you need to stop. You are going to be the best father to our baby and I don’t want you thinking otherwise.”

 

He ducks his head, swallowing the lump in his throat.

 

“I just… I don’t think I deserve to be this happy, Clarke.”

 

She makes a strangled sound and pulls him up so that they’re face to face.

 

“Bellamy Blake,” she says, her voice unwavering although her eyes are shining, “you deserve _every_ happiness. Do you understand me? You are a damn good man, the best one I know, and this baby is going to love you more than anything.”

 

They’re both crying now, and she wipes the tears from his cheeks with her thumbs before pulling him down for a hard kiss.

 

“I love you so much,” he gasps when they separate. “Both of you.”

 

Clarke smiles, taking his hand in hers and placing over the spot their child had just kicked. She says the words been waiting for:

 

“We love you, too.”

 

* * *

 

Three months later, Octavia is pacing outside the med bay, gnawing her nails down to ragged stubs. Finally, after what was only a few hours but felt like years, the door opens and Abby Griffin steps out.

 

“They want to see you,” she says with a tired smile.

 

Octavia charges in without another word, but stops short at the sight in front of her.

 

Clarke is laying on the bed, propped up by Bellamy’s arm around her shoulders. She’s red-faced and sweaty, her hair matted on her forehead and her eyes bloodshot. She has never looked more like a warrior.

 

Bellamy has his left arm around Clarke’s shoulders and his right curled protectively in front of the bundle in Clarke’s arms. They’re both staring at the squirming mass of limbs in front of them, unblinking. As Octavia creeps forward, she can just make out a tuft of dark hair peeking out from the blanket.

 

“O,” Bellamy says, his voice rough. He looks up and smiles at her, so wide she thinks he just might burst. “Come meet your nephew.”

 

She steps forward tentatively, and Clarke angles the bundle so she can see his face. He’s red and wrinkled, his eyes squeezed shut as he fusses around. His skin is dark like Bellamy’s but when he opens his eyes for a second Octavia can see a flash of blue that is undeniably Clarke.

 

He’s perfect.

 

“W-what’s his name?” she asks.

 

“We’ve decided on Jacob, after Clarke’s father,” Bellamy answers.

 

“But, if you’d like, we want you to pick his middle name,” Clarke offers.

 

Jacob squirms again, and his fist flies free of the blanket. He has a small discoloration, a tiny birthmark, right on the side of his pinky. Just like her.

 

“Caleb,” she says, her voice steady. “We always wanted to- uh, Caleb. I choose Caleb.”

 

They don’t comment on her hesitation. She doesn’t talk about Lincoln much, and they don’t push her.

 

“Well, Jacob Caleb Griffin-Blake,” Clarke starts, and Octavia snorts because _Jesus that’s a mouthful_ , “let’s let your aunt hold you for a bit, hmm?”

 

Clarke hands him over to Octavia, Bellamy’s large hands hovering the whole time.

 

“Support his head, O.”

 

“I _know_ , Bell.”

 

Once he’s settled in her arms, she feels a wave of calm wash over her. All her anger, her pain, her guilt- one look at him and it’s gone. She’s tired of being so angry all the time. Jacob blinks up at her, his eyes trying to adjust to the light, and she knows she’s done. She doesn’t want to taint his life with her own misery.

 

“Hi, Jacob,” she says softly, leaning down to nuzzle his soft tufts of hair with her nose. “I’m your aunt, okay? My name’s Octavia, but you can call me whatever you want.”

 

She rocks him slowly in her arms, and his eyes begin to droop shut.

 

“I love you so much, Jacob. I’ll always be here for you. I’m not leaving again, I promise. I’m going to be here for your first steps, your first words, the first time your dad annoys you so much that have to come stay with me for the night.”

 

“ _Hey_!”

 

“I’ll always be here, Jacob,” Octavia continues, “no matter what.”

 

He falls asleep in her arms but she doesn’t give him back until he starts to fuss again, ready to nurse. She hands him back to Clarke and goes to leave, intent on giving them privacy, but Clarke’s voice stops her just before she’s out the door.

 

“Octavia!”

 

She turns back, and Clarke is smiling.

 

“I’m glad you came back.”

 

Octavia smiles back, small but sure.

 

“Yeah, Clarke. Me, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> let's talk on tumblr!  
> (bilexualclarke)


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